


love but him, and love for ever

by princesszaf



Series: auror partners jjp hp au [1]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Auror Partners, M/M, slytherin jy and gryffindor jb of course ;-)))), this is just....really soft wow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 13:13:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8163224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesszaf/pseuds/princesszaf
Summary: He thinks of Jinyoung, the strong grip on his fingers, the fire in brown eyes, the blood curdling scream. A force knocking him backwards, Jinyoung’s voice bleeding his name, hands holding his face, urging consciousness. All of it in distorted, broken memories. Being drawn to his feet, words in Korean whispered fervently. “Jaebum-ah, you promised me we’d win.”// a cotton soft, honey sweet post hogwarts jjp au





	

**Author's Note:**

> i !!!! really enjoyed writing this sigh i wrote the pointers for it on the way to uni while thinking abt mayday....anyway
> 
> i havent rly read hp fanfic is sooo long so i apologise if it's not...harry potter-ish enough? i should also probably find myself a beta but i'm just too impatient to wait for someone to read my work before posting it...heh. anyway, enjoy!

 

 

Jaebum doesn’t dislike Park Jinyoung.

Saying he likes Park Jinyoung would be a reach too. There wasn’t ever opportunity, house divisions and all that, and it was easier to follow protocol than step out of his comfort zone.

Even now, in the midst of auror training, he has enough reason to make conversation. They’ll be working together soon, sharing loyalties, looking out for each other. There’s more solid brotherhood here than in the isolated bubbles of their common rooms, more reason to extend a friendly hand, make it pleasant for everyone involved.

“You need to stop staring.”

Mondays are for battling simulations and they’re on a fifteen minute break. Sweat travels in rivulets down Jinyoung’s neck, Adam’s apple bobbing as he sips on water. Jaebum’s on the other end of the hall, trying to catch his breath for the next round. He hadn’t seen Sungjin approach him, hadn’t realised he was _staring_.

He looks away, cheeks burning. Rising clumsily to his feet, almost like he’s been caught, swats Sungjin’s shoulder with his towel wearily.

“I was not.”

“It’s not the worst thing in the world, you know.” Sungjin’s words are serene, tinged with insinuation. Jaebum looks at him with confusion. “Having _feelings_.” A weighted pause, voice dropping conspiratorially. “For a _Slytherin_.”

Jaebum attempts to hit him again but Sungjin steps away this time, roguish grin in place. The imp has the audacity to shrug patronisingly, offer him a salute. Nayeon calls out his name, Sungjin’s a bit of a goner and he jogs away, not before reassuringly patting Jaebum on the back.

He supposes it’s safe now, to sneak another peek at Jinyoung. What he doesn’t expect is Park Jinyoung staring right back at him, something intense in his dark eyes and it takes Jaebum a long moment before he looks away, heart beating slightly faster than it was before.

 

* * *

 

This isn’t going to work.

Five minutes into being assigned on the same task together and the difference in opinion is startling. Twenty minutes and there are glares, passive aggressive jabs, aggressive scowling. Forty five minutes and Jinyoung looks vicious, ready to tear Jaebum to shreds with his bare hands.

“I wouldn’t expect any cooperation from a Gryffindor anyway,” Jinyoung snarls, folding his arms, just a quiver in his words. He speaks heatedly to Youngjae, the poor lamb, sandwiched between the two. “Obstinate, reckless, _arrogant_ -“

  
Jaebum’s mind is whirling. He steps forward, only to get pleadingly pushed away by Youngjae, a hard hand on his chest. He feels his jaw set tight, his hands coiling into fists, a sizzle of electricity shooting from his wand. Jinyoung doesn’t look perturbed, just glares back with the same incredible heat, as if Jaebum doesn’t threaten him. As if it weren’t for Youngjae between them, he’d have no reason to hold back.

It really, really wasn’t supposed to work.

They arise from ashes days later, shrugging grit and dirt off their shoulders. Blood on Jaebum’s clothes, a long scar down Jinyoung’s arm. The timer’s ticking, minutes away from the end, and they’re the only trainees in the long, pitch black room. The panelists sit awestruck on one end, the boys on the other. Jinyoung’s arm is still solid around his waist, holding him up.

Kumar looks gobsmacked. Shacklebolt’s pleased, suspiciously pleased, arms folded and a determined glint in his eyes.

“Good job, boys.” 

 

* * *

 

Shacklebolt piques a brow, as if awaiting an uproar.

Gryffindors don’t work well with Slytherins. Jaebum had always been hellbent on working with Sungjin. Jaebum’s temper was a notorious thing too, ready to obliterate everything unpleasant in his path. Nobody could blame Shacklebolt for being slightly apprehensive and when all he gets from Jaebum is a short, polite nod, it’s all too anticlimactic and he sits back with furrowed brows.

“You worked well together on your final test,” Shacklebolt explains. He’s not sure why he does it, words almost cautious. “The finest performance we’ve seen in a while, actually. We haven’t had those kind of results in years.”

Jaebum doesn’t say anything. Nothing pertaining to the matter anyway, as if he hadn’t set fire on Jinyoung’s hair earlier that week. As if Jinyoung hadn’t set him levitating petrified off the ground for it. As if they hadn’t resorted to cheap tricks from their school days, as if they hadn’t swapped the ugliest, cruellest of words.

He just stares at the amber badge on Shacklebolt’s desk, glinting fresh, holding promise.

Shacklebolt seems to be waiting for a verbal acknowledgment. It comes belated but nothing insincere. “Alright, yeah.”

His superior’s got a booming, imploring voice but that seems faraway too, all crackling background noise.

“Congratulations, Auror Im.”

He thinks of Jinyoung, the strong grip on his fingers, the fire in brown eyes, the blood curdling scream. A force knocking him backwards, Jinyoung’s voice bleeding his name, hands holding his face, urging consciousness. All of it in distorted, broken memories.

Being drawn to his feet, words in Korean whispered fervently. “ _Jaebum-ah, you promised me we’d win_.”

There was the stomach churning wrench of a Portkey, a strong arm holding him upright through all of it. Then the dark, dark room and astonished faces.

Jaebum snaps out of his reverie. He looks up and meets Shacklebolt’s gaze and offers a smile, another small nod and curls his fingers around the badge. Feels its ridges and in them a sense of accomplishment.

He leaves the room with a smile and murmured gratitude shortly after.

 

* * *

 

If they’re on tenterhooks around each other for the first week, nobody can really blame them for it.

Jaebum catches Jinyoung looking when he turns his head to look. Everything is tense, from patrols to inspections to paperwork, bolting for the door, _away_ , at the tiniest hints of a break.

He’s packing up for the night when Jinyoung confronts him. Their office is spacious, allowing for breathing space. He doesn’t understand why Jinyoung’s this close - he can count Jinyoung’s eyelashes this close, the flecks of black in his brown eyes and it’s very, very disconcerting.

“We can’t keep going on like this.”

For all his courage in approaching Jaebum, the bluntness of his words, there’s an awkward wobble in Jinyoung’s words. He doesn’t look at Jaebum, just focusses on a spot above Jaebum’s shoulder. His body’s tense, as if awaiting rejection or mockery.

Jinyoung doesn’t get any of that.

“Alright,” Jaebum nods. There’s no smiling, no conciliatory shaking of hands. Jinyoung’s quick to move to his side of the office and they pack up in comfortable silence.

Jinyoung’s first to leave with a goodnight.

Jaebum enters their office fifteen minutes late the next morning, offering a smile and a good morning. He has the grace to look sheepish about it and…Jinyoung smiles back, pleasant crinkles at the corner of his eyes.

When Jaebum offers to grab lunch together, slightly hopeful and bracing himself for hostility, it doesn’t come.

He doesn’t know why they haven’t done this before. Watching Park Jinyoung attempt to tackle a hamburger with his bare hands is the funniest, most innocent thing. Jinyoung lets him have his laugh, Jaebum lets Jinyoung kick his shins under the table.

“I’m going to make you eat an entire can of surströmming someday, Im Jaebum, just you wait.”

 

* * *

 

Jaebum doesn’t recall last night too well.

If he did, it’d be something like this -

Jinyoung’s body a pleasant weight in his lap. Their robes are discarded somewhere, his fingertips feel scorching, exciting warmth. His hands on Jinyoung’s waist, under his silk button down, trembling against skin.

Awestruck, so awestruck. Jinyoung’s never looked this dishevelled, this effortlessly casual. He hadn’t imagined Jinyoung to be this…assertive, hands grabbing his face, pulling his lips up for a kiss.

Clash of teeth and bitten lips and it was all of that, desperate and clumsy and aching for more. Like it’s been months and months of longing, of finally coming to some fruition, and then it just slows down.

Steady. Romantic.

He’d easily remember Jinyoung’s giggle. It’s always a soft chuckle otherwise, the occasional sneer when he’s stressed or cornered.

But he’d have remembered Jinyoung’s giggle, right against his lips. He’d have felt his smile against Jinyoung’s skin too, a sweet crescent against the length of Jinyoung’s jaw. Fingers crawling down Jinyoung’s sides in nothing sexual, just playful, silly tickles. Jinyoung’s hands had always seemed dainty but they’re _strong_  now, clutching Jaebum’s shoulders tight.

“ _Stop_ ,” he’d have remembered, an urging murmur in Korean.

“Make me,” a sweet whisper in English.

And Jinyoung does, drawing Jaebum’s mouth to his again, tasting Odgen’s and salted peanuts.

He doesn’t though. He traipses into their office at nine with a thrumming hangover, offers Jinyoung a small smile. If Jinyoung looks up in anticipation, as if his nerves were sizzling haywire the entire morning, Jaebum doesn’t notice it.

The matter ends there, abrupt. Jaebum doesn’t remember it anyway and Jinyoung doesn’t bring it up.

 

* * *

   
Jinyoung’s upset with him. Jaebum doesn’t know why, just knows he is and that’s enough to have him tentative and mildly terrified for the entire workday.

He catches himself gazing wistfully at ten minutes to four. They’re supposed to be working on their leads, Jinyoung doing just that. Bent over a scramble of documents, peacock quill between his slender fingers. Silken hair falling over his eyes, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip. Jaebum’s overwhelmed by a sudden, itching desire to push his hair away. Replace Jinyoung’s teeth with his lips.

“You’re staring again.”

It’s barely an admonishment but it has Jaebum toppling out of his chair, cheeks burning. The room feels hot, too hot, so there’s only one realistic option. He bolts for the door, mutters a hasty, ‘I’ll be back soon’ and shuts it firmly behind him.

He returns fifteen minutes later with caffeine sweeping through his veins and a mug of hot chocolate for Jinyoung. He realises only belatedly that the drink’s almost an apology, doesn’t understand why the realisation ruffles him the way it does.

Jinyoung looks up from his scribbling, glasses perched on his nose now. Jaebum catches everything - the way Jinyoung’s lips part slightly, the surprised rise of his brows. The colour rushing to the surface of his cheeks, the way his quill scratches an accidental line across parchment.

When Jinyoung finally replies, his astonishment borders adorable. “For me?”

“Yeah, just the way you like it.” Jaebum sounds gruff, defensive. If Jinyoung picks up on it, he doesn’t comment on it. Just takes the proffered mug from Jaebum, tilts his chin to look up at Jaebum with soft, soft eyes.

The smile comes a few beats later. Jaebum hopes his grin doesn’t look too besotted.

 

* * *

 

“Didn’t you ever think it was really fucking stupid?”

It’s not common for Jinyoung to swear. It’s a few hours past midnight, deadline looming, paperwork scattered all over their desks. They drink together sometimes, when work’s not exciting enough and they need a surge of energy from somewhere. Fighting criminals, occasionally almost dying. They’re only just conditioned to adrenaline highs. Jaebum clutches onto his rock glass of firewhiskey, can’t tear his gaze away from Jinyoung circling the rim of his with his index finger.

He’s only slightly dazed when he looks up at Jinyoung, blinking.

“…What?”

If Jinyoung thinks he sounds a bit daft, he makes no indication. There’s no slow, decided raise of his brow, no patronising head tilt. He owes it to the alcohol.

They’ve shared drinks before, they’ve stayed up this late for work before. The combination of both is foreign, the candidness of Jinyoung’s words foreign too.

“That…that whole division of eleven year olds based on, what, a magical talking hat determining what your personality’s like? What your motivations are? At _eleven_?” He pauses, then rattles on, almost ardent. “And not just that, these pre-instilled do’s and don’t’s, hating a group of children based solely on their membership to a certain house, widespread surprise and almost…disdain if you don’t. What’s the purpose of telling kids to actively hate other kids?”

Jinyoung just talks with big, decided words. Jaebum’s conditioned himself to not take it as a personal affront, even if the learning’s come several months too belated.

He can’t do anything but nod. Jinyoung’s leaning in too close anyway, shoulders brushing. The scent of Jinyoung’s cologne lingers, barely there but enough to distract him. It doesn’t take much to distract Jaebum, he’s come to accept, especially when it comes to Jinyoung.

“I suppose it was,” is all he can muster. Jinyoung gets like that, emphatic about things with no forewarning, no context. Like he’s having intense conversations with himself about things people only entertain in fierce debate. It’s an intense outpour of emotion, always fervent, fiery.

“How would you have done it?” Jaebum asks when beats of time go by, after he’s thought about it too. He catches himself staring at Jinyoung’s fingers and looks away.

“How it should’ve been done,” Jinyoung answers promptly, like it’s something he’s thought about at length before. “No houses at all.”

He pauses, as if mulling his words over. Jinyoung looks straight ahead, gaze fixed on something on the other side of the window. Jaebum’s eyes are on his lips now - there’s a bead of liquor by Jinyoung’s lips, awfully tempting.

“We’d have been friends, you and I.” Jinyoung pauses, clears his throat. Jaebum looks away just as Jinyoung turns to look at him, almost tentative. “Your bed could’ve been next to mine, we’d have bonded over the silliest of things. Suffered History of Magic together, explored Hogsmeade together.” He pauses again, lets out a small bark of nervous laughter. Jaebum’s transfixed for a moment, watches Jinyoung’s features contort amusedly. “I just _know_ you would’ve berated me about overworking myself - dragged me out for a game of Quidditch at midnight, made me enjoy life the way…I suppose a Gryffindor would.”

“That’s not the worst thing in the world,” Jaebum hums. There’s no bite to it, not like there could’ve been.

“Not the worst thing in the world at all,” Jinyoung agrees and they lock eyes for a moment, just for a long second.

 

* * *

 

 

This is not how Jaebum spends his Sunday mornings.

It’s…nice though, he’ll admit that much, being witness to Jinyoung like this. They wander the streets of Muggle London together and Jinyoung’s not supposed to look this good in a plain white shirt and snug denim jeans. A few passersby seem share the same sentiment, turning for a second look. Jinyoung doesn’t notice any of that, Jaebum subtly presses closer, their shoulders brushing intimately and Jinyoung remains oblivious to that too.

“We should wear these clothes to work.”

Rose tints Jinyoung’s cheeks and his voice is airy, light. His lips are in a forever upward turn, ghosting a smile, and when Jaebum looks at him, the peaks just rise higher and higher.

Jaebum laughs, heart skipping a beat when their fingers touch. He doesn’t pull away, Jinyoung doesn’t either and he wonders if his cheeks bloom pink too.

“That comfortable, huh?” Jaebum hums and he really, _really_ can’t stop smiling. They reach their destination and he pushes the door open, lets Jinyoung slip in first, watches his eyes come alight from all the soft music, the smell of coffee, orders being called out and people huddled over Starbucks cups, people texting away, university students with earphones plugged in and fingers flying across laptop keyboards.

A group of kids whiz past them with breathless, giggly apologies, speeding out of the door behind them. Jinyoung turns around curiously, watches them run down the street together and Jaebum gently nudges him towards the growing queue.

“Try wearing suits under uncomfortable robes for hours at length,” Jinyoung whisper groans finally. He turns slightly to say that, shoulder pressing against Jaebum’s chest. “The pureblood life is, simply put, ostentatious torture.”

“I can imagine,” Jaebum replies wryly, gets an endearing frown and a light whack on his chest from Jinyoung at that.

Their fingers find each other’s again. They move further down the line, fingers still close.

When Jaebum entwines them together, Jinyoung doesn’t pull away. There’s a hesitant caress at his wrist and Jaebum squeezes Jinyoung’s hand, holding on firmer.

Jinyoung rushes forward when it's their turn and has a hard time pronouncing his order. It’s stumble after stumble until Jaebum gallantly rescues him with a soft chuckle, flexing and tightening his fingers around Jinyoung’s. Jinyoung looks at him with an embarrassed pout and Jaebum laughs that off too, dragging Jinyoung to an empty table when their order’s placed, bill paid.

 

* * *

 

 

  
And soon enough, Sunday mornings come to spell this -

Overpriced coffee and sandwiches in Muggle London with Jinyoung. Watching Jinyoung struggle with Muggle syllables, squeezing Jinyoung’s hand tighter. Brief kisses in public, Jinyoung leaning over their newspapers to brush Jaebum’s hair away from his eyes. Ankle coiling around ankle under coffee tables. Peppermint mochas close to Christmas, kisses under mistletoes.

Falling in love with Park Jinyoung…it’s a slow, beautiful thing.

Jaebum tells him that, cozy in winter wear, his boyfriend nestled comfortable in his lap. All Jinyoung does is blush furiously, nip the tip of Jaebum’s nose. He whines and huddles closer, stealing all of Jaebum’s warmth.

Jaebum just laughs, deep and boisterous, and tilts Jinyoung’s chin up for a kiss. 

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me @ imjaybum !!! and yell at me to study for my midterms pls


End file.
